Truth
by corneroffandom
Summary: Immediate aftermath of Monday Night Raw.


From the point that Sheamus leaves the ring until his match against Cena begins, Alberto Del Rio doesn't leave Ricardo Rodriguez' side. Once they get him to regain consciousness in the ring, he stays so, even refuses the stretcher that is brought out for him. Alberto stays close, a supporting hand on the middle of Ricardo's back, the other under his elbow, as he walks slowly, painfully back up the ramp, his shaky breathing echoing in Del Rio's ears. It had been scary to watch, especially when he hadn't opened his eyes for long moments. Alberto's so used to Ricardo just bouncing back, somehow making it through most attacks he suffers without any long-lasting effects, that he thinks he may never be able to get the sight of an unconscious Ricardo, barely responding to his voice or touch, out of his mind.

Once they reach the top of the ramp, Ricardo pauses and seems to falter mid-step, his skin pale and sweaty. Alberto quickly shifts until he can see his face. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly and it's all Alberto can do to not turn right there and demand the stretcher after all, trying to respect the younger man's decision."Ricardo? Are you...?"

"Dizzy," he grits out, reaching out blindly and snagging Alberto's shoulder. They stand like that a long moment, Alberto glaring over his shoulder at the mumbling trainer and referees who are circling Ricardo with repetitive, nagging suggestions.

"Give him some air!" he finally snaps at the trainer, stepping between them and giving his ring announcer a reprieve from the man's grating voice. "Just. Stop. Talking." Finally Ricardo straightens back up and, taking another deep breath, squeezes Del Rio's shoulder. "Can you continue?"

"Si," he mumbles, taking another step. His eyes are still unfocused, glazed over with pain, but he continues on, trudging past the curtain that Alberto holds open for him and immediately follows him all the way to the trainer's office. He doesn't stop again, even if he does start to slow down once they're half down the hallway to the trainer's office.

"Almost there," Alberto soothes him, shifting his hand to rest on his upper arm, support him the rest of the way more securely. "Just a little further." Ricardo nods, slowly leaning more of his weight on the older man as they go, both men beyond relieved when they finally arrive and Alberto helps him settle down on a cot, turning to glower at the trainer who quickly moves to get supplies. The examination of Ricardo that follows seems to take forever, each hissed breath and groan eating away at his employer. _He needs the hospital,_ he thinks, shaking his head. Unable to believe what had just happened, what Ricardo had sacrificed. Again. For him.

He's staring at his hands, unable to watch as his friend is put in further discomfort during this, when the trainer finally finishes and rejoins him. "How is he?" he asks with no preamble, finally looking up to find an exhausted Ricardo staring at the ceiling, his fingers pressed together as they always are when he's anxious or nervous.

"I've deduced his facial injuries are superficial. But at the very least this re-aggravated his previous neck injuries. I'm not sure how severely but it doesn't look good, considering the amount of pain he's in." Alberto swallows harshly, remembering all too well. It had, after all, only been ten months ago that Ricardo had fallen off of a 14 foot ladder over the top rope and into a waiting table on the floor below. He had only been in the hospital for maybe 24 hours when he had signed himself out AMA to be with Del Rio after he had torn his groin the following night, and Alberto had been so stuck on his own surgery, rehab, and recovery, the torture of missing the Royal Rumble _and _Wrestlemania due to it, that he hadn't thought at the time to ask how Ricardo's neck was, just glad to see that, after a few weeks, the neck brace had disappeared never to be seen again. "I'm also concerned about potential head injuries. I want him transported to the ER immediately."

Alberto's about to agree, unsurprised by this, but... "No," Ricardo's faint voice stops both of them, his head whipping up to look at the younger man.

"Que?" he demands, rushing over to him as the trainer looks on, lips twitching with displeasure. "No what, Ricardo?"

Rodriguez' dark, glazed over eyes try and fail to focus on Alberto, instead locking onto the wall nearby as he breathes in and out a few times. "I do not wish to go," he finally mumbles. "Not alone, por favor." Alberto's hand resting on his, squeezing slightly, encourages him to look up once more, eyes blurry and distant. "After your match against Cena..."

Del Rio grimaces, hating the whole situation- he knows that Ricardo needs to go to the hospital but, after everything, he can't blame him for not wanting to be alone. He looks up at the trainer, eyes glinting worriedly as he tries to think through this. "He will be alright if he stays here awhile longer, yes?"

The trainer looks annoyed, brushing past Alberto as he leans over to examine the downed ring announcer once more. "If he loses consciousness again or starts to act _at all_ strange, I _will_ be transporting him," he tells him grimly. "For now, very well, he can stay."

Alberto immediately loses interest in him, turning his attention back to Ricardo. "See, see," he says softly. "You may remain here for now, you just need to stay awake, alright?"

"Si," Ricardo agrees lowly, his eyes fluttering slightly as Alberto sits down next to him. "You... you're staying?"

Startled by the surprise in his voice, Alberto leans over him and rests his hand gently in his hair, taking care to not press too hard, not wanting to add to his agony in the slightest. "Of course I will, until my match. Just rest, mi amigo." This seems to help, some of the anxiety leaving Ricardo as he eases against the cot fully, his hand trembling slightly beneath Alberto's fingers. He watches him, shaking his head as he ponders this reaction. _I haven't been that bad the past few weeks, have I?_

His temper gets the best of him sometimes, especially in such a competitive business such as this one, and Ricardo is usually the only one he can dare to take it out on, the younger man steadfast enough to take the good with the bad and barely blink an eye whenever Alberto begins pushing him around, or... Del Rio looks over at him, remembering slapping him away whenever he'd just been trying to help, ruthlessly knocking him down and taking his shoes to use as weapons, yelling at and insulting him whenever things had gone wrong. He flushes slightly in mortification and stands sharply, turning his back to the younger man, trying to recollect himself.

"El Patron?" Ricardo finally asks after a few moments, worry and fear filling his face and tone as he watches his employer run his hand over his face, mumble viciously to himself. "What-"

Alberto turns quickly, face falling as Ricardo sinks away from the sudden movement, cringing in pain as if expecting another of Alberto's rampages, his hands held up imploringly, and all Del Rio can see is the many times in the past Ricardo had tried and failed to appease him, stop his fits of temper. "Ay," he groans, sinking back down in the chair and resting his face in his hands, the memories eating at him. "What is wrong with me?"

Ricardo's about to say something when David Otunga, of all people, enter the office, coffee cup in hand. Both Mexican's gazes turn to him, Alberto quickly standing up with a warning look on his face. "What do you want?" he snaps, standing between Otunga and Ricardo.

Holding his hands up quickly, Otunga takes a step back. "I saw what happened to Mr. Rodriguez," he explains. "I was simply wondering if you would be interested in possibly filing a case against Sheamus, it is a clear case of assault. Pain and suffering, the costs of whatever medical care he may need from this... Maybe more."

Alberto's attention turning from his own shortcomings to what Otunga is saying, he stares down at Ricardo. "Of course, of course," he murmurs. Otunga's voice quickly begins grating at him, his thoughts already going a million miles an hour, and finally he rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder. "I will be back in a moment," he tells him softly before leaving the office, just needing some air, a minute to think in peace.

Unfortunately Matt Striker is waiting for him on the outside, asking his many stupid questions one after the other. Del Rio can't even concentrate, head still spinning with details of what Otunga had been going on about, and the many horrible memories from the past few weeks- hell, months even. He just stares at him, abruptly relieved when the lawyer comes out and speaks for him, guides him back into the office and away from the prying eyes and questions. Otunga thankfully remains quiet as he wanders back over to Ricardo, pressing a hand to his upper arm. When Ricardo looks up, he smiles faintly at him, trying not to show his inner turmoil to the younger man. _He needs support, people to be strong and help him... not this... This cannot continue._

"Are you alright?" he asks lowly, taking a deep breath as Alberto sits back down next to him.

"Si, si, do not worry about me. I'm fine." Well aware of the trainer and Otunga still hovering nearby, Alberto leans closer. "Ricardo..."

"El Patron?"

"Lo siento," he whispers, trying to remember the last time he had said so to his friend, had honestly meant it. The fact that he's not even sure disgusts him, leaves him feeling even lower. "Lo siento. I will- will do all I can to see you through this. It will not be as it has been, I promise you." Ricardo's eyes widen in surprise, not a word spoken between the two for quite awhile as Alberto stares at him, overwhelming sincerity bleeding from his gaze. "Alright?"

"Si, of course," he says uncertainly, reaching out towards him. He smiles slightly as Alberto scoops his hand up and holds it loosely, eyes gleaming in the overhead lights. They remain like this until a tech comes to let Alberto know his match is next.

He quietly puts Ricardo's hand down, patting it a time or two before he gets to his feet. "Take care of him," he snaps at the bemused trainer before brushing past_ him_ on his way to the door. He's almost out of the room when-

"Be careful," Ricardo calls out to him from where he lays, Alberto skidding to a stop before turning to look at him, lips parting with surprise. "I- Lo siento, I wish I could be there."

"I have told you, Ricardo, do not worry about me," he chides, no heat behind the words. "I will be fine. _You_ stay conscious. I'll be back soon." He leaves then, grim determination bleeding through each step. It _is_ a falls count anywhere match, which is generally brutal, but... he's so angry with himself and everything that had led to Ricardo getting injured again that he has no doubt he'll win tonight, relieved that he has a proper target like John Cena to take his heightened emotions out on.

He _does_ come close to losing but CM Punk comes out of nowhere and assists his victory. He barely questions it, not even looking back once he receives the three count, stumbling away as soon as he gets back to his feet. He's sore and he can barely put weight on his knee but he doesn't stop, quickly making his way back to the trainer's office. Thankfully Otunga is gone and Ricardo's eyes rest on him as he enters the room. "See, I'm fine," he tells the younger man.

"Your knee," he points out as Alberto limps over to him. His lips twitch as Alberto stares at him, shaking his head.

"I'm _fine,_" he repeats, turning to look at the trainer. "When's the transport?"

"As soon as you're ready," he says almost sarcastically. Alberto glowers at him before refocusing on Ricardo.

"Are you ready to go?" He smiles as Ricardo releases a soft breath, reluctant and a little scared. "I will be by your side the whole time. I promise. You will get the best care, and be just fine."

"I know," he sighs quietly. He focuses on Del Rio as best as he can, his head and neck protesting each movement of the stretcher- this time Ricardo doesn't argue, too exhausted and in pain to even think about being as stubborn as he had two hours earlier- as they finally begin taking him towards the ambulance that will take him to the ER. "Gracias."

"No, I should be the one saying gracias," Alberto murmurs, by his side as they move through the hallways. As much as he hates that Ricardo had to get injured for it to happen, he is relieved that his eyes have been opened once more to the brave, loyal man that has been by his side for the last two years who he had somehow lost sight of in his quest for the World Title since returning from injury. _I will not forget again. I cannot._


End file.
